Third Children
by FanFictioneer420
Summary: Misato Katsuragi has just learned her father is dead. NERV has been waiting for this opportunity since its inception. AU
1. Chapter 1

2015

Misato Katsuragi could not remember the face of her father. It (he) was something she had put an enormous effort into ignoring over the years, over the nine years since he had left. Not vanished, not disappeared, just 'left'. She received regular correspondence from him on the first of every month, which she sorted directly into the nearest wastecan. It was always best to be organized. She received offers from an organization called NERV to see him on her birthday. Every year.

Just four weeks ago, she responded as passive-aggressively as she could, apologizing profusely for not being able to attend due to her packed schedule and 'other responsibilities'. The finger quotes were important (if perhaps difficult to express when not in person), she thought, to let him or whoever kept offering know that she knew her place in her father's list of priorities. At the very bottom, of course.

Her friends at the municipal high learned very quickly not to talk about him. She brushed off questions with a spectacularly obvious discomfort that quickly drained the conversation. It wasn't like there was much to talk about in any case; for 6 years he had been a part of her life, and for nine years he had not. Nine was greater than six: therefore, he was a piece of shit.

She assumed he had been there, anyway, vague muddled recollections of a short man with scraggly hair straining to make themselves known. Her mother had died in a shelter two years after Second Impact, or so she was told. She couldn't recall the nightmarish years following the bloody dawn of the new millennium. But what she could recall, with perfect clarity, were the words her father imparted to her before she was sent to live with her uncle (once-or-twice-removed?).

"I'm very sorry, Misato, but I have other responsibilities now."

It was all very professional. Very honest. In a way she thought she admired him for his strength; to send his own child across the country and make sure to never once visit took fortitude if nothing else. In a way, she knew she would never forgive him for abandoning her.

So when three uniformed NERV men walked into her classroom after third period, she knew there was only one reason for them to meet her in person. To absolutely no one's surprise, her father was dead. And she was to join NERV to continue his work.

* * *

2015

It was much easier to leave her uncle's house than it was to arrive. She had been drenched in her own tears, the picture of a miserable child as a man she did not know struggled to comfort a child he had never met. He was not a bad man, she thought. He was kind enough to raise a child, and mindful enough of what kind of space a teenage girl needed. He was enough to fill whatever hole her father had left, but he could never be anything more than that.

So when he choked up at her leaving, promising to call every day, it came as a shock to her that she felt more pity for him now than she had felt in her entire life. She screwed her face up and hugged him for the last time, before the suits escorted her to the car and whisked her away.

"Goodbye."

One of the suits, grey hair on a black three-piece, turned around from his shotgun seat and smiled. "My name is Kaworu Nagisa. It's nice to meet you, Miss Katsuragi."

She smiled back, the words coming out automatically, "Thank you, it's good to meet you as well." She extended her arm, gave his waiting hand a quick, firm pump, and sank back in her seat. He had pale red eyes, blood vessels speckling the iris. Albinism? Contact lenses?

"I am the leader of an important project at NERV. Might I assume that you know what NERV is?" The smile seemed glued to his face.

She assumed that whatever her father had been sending her for nine years would have helped her know. Had she bothered to read any of them. Nagisa seemed to understand her ignorance, and began his spiel, "NERV is a research and defense administration founded by the UN and run through a private military contractor. Its research focuses include genetic sequencing, splicing, and the initial production of industrial and military technologies based on both."

"Is that what my father worked on?" Something heavy had settled in her stomach, and the words slipped out before she could stop them. "Genes and guns?" For the first time in years she realized that she knew nothing about him. She tried to pass it off as idle curiosity, fooling everyone, she was sure, "I just… never really got to know him after he left, y'know?"

Nagisa was still watching her, with the open smile she now assumed was his default expression. "Of course. It must have been difficult to be apart for so long. And to return now?" He shook his head.

"He was the key to our most important project. With his death, we were left with an incomplete and rather useless product. Which is why we don't have a choice in who we recruit, you see. If we could afford the time to wait until after you had recovered from his death, we would have." She bristled at that, trying her best not to state the obvious: why should she care if he's dead? She settled for looking out the window, consciously not meeting the reflection of his eyes. They were the nucleus of a three vehicle caravan, blasting through the express lane completely unhindered.

He continued, staring straight through her, waiting for her to face him again. "I know that you don't enjoy hearing all this. But I am being honest because I believe that the sooner we deal with this, the better. We need you, because you can pick up what he left behind. If only because you are his daughter."

His daughter. It was a true enough turn of phrase, she was indeed biologically his. But she had no idea what Nagisa thought he was doing. Misato was no idiot. The tightness in her stomach was quickly giving way to anger. She was not that man's daughter, no matter how much they would want her to pretend.

"It was uniquely keyed to your father. And because you are his direct descendent, we believe you will be able to operate it." His eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile grew. "We aren't blind to your pain. You do not need any love or respect or whatever you might think we want you to have for your father. You just need to be genetically similar to him. At least, that is the current theory. It may not work at all." He gave a helpless shrug, a put-upon gesture for an intelligent man playing the fool.

The anger that was building in her gut slowly simmered out. She had thought (who knows what she had thought they needed her for? To guess which body was her father's?) that Nagisa had been making excuses for him.

She turned back to Nagisa and looked him in the eyes. "All right. I'll try to h-help if you really do need me that badly." It was so ridiculous that she was having a hard time not laughing.

He turned away, seatbelt clicking for the first time he entered the car.

"Good. All we need is for you to try. No one expects you to be perfect the first time."

And, with that last, horribly confusing statement, the sky vanished entirely as the lonely caravan entered a tunnel. A single sign stood lonely vigil as the rumbling of engines faded.

NERV PROPERTY

NO TRESSPASSING

AS UN OPERATIONAL SECURITY DECREE 2GF

VIOLATORS WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT

THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION

* * *

2015

The GeoFront was stunning. Misato had known about it in the same way you might know about any natural wonder without actually seeing it; a wonder to be sure, but nothing particularly important. But this space, illuminated and lush under the most advanced city in the world, was almost too much to take in.

Nagisa stood next to her in the linear rail car, staring out at the wonder before him with a face that could be carved out of stone. He was an attractive man, to be sure, tall and almost elegant. The more she thought, the more she liked his neutral (severe) expression as he ignored her. It seemed more honest, somehow.

Looking at him more closely, she realized she hadn't been paying attention earlier in the ride. He was wearing a turtleneck undershirt beneath his jacket, despite it being easily one of the hottest days of the summer.

"Hey," she said, tapping his shoulder. He blinked, face molding back to its default smile. "Sorry, looked like you were thinking pretty hard over there. Uh, I was just wondering, why are you wearing that shirt? It must be like 35 degrees out?"

He cocked his head to the side, nodded as if coming to a decision, and tugged his collar down.

"I'll trust you."

Her eyes widened in an instant.

His neck was a mess. A thick, bleached scar ran its way around the front, cutting cleanly across his adam's apple. As he slowly turned, she saw it continued in a perfect circle around his neck. Blotchy color of bruises, blood, somehow not yet healed (How could you heal from _that_ ) crisscrossed the Scar. It didn't feel right to just call it a scar. There were scars, and then there was The Scar.

She didn't mean to (it would be wrong to act disgusted after he just showed you his personal whatever the fuck that was) but she backed into the opposite wall, eyes wide, mouth agape.

"W-what…"

There wasn't much else she could say as Nagisa replaced his collar with a frown.

"I'm… I'm sorry?"

"No. It truly is my fault." He said it with warmth, smile back. "I should have warned you. But I have an unfortunate weakness for the dramatic. This sort of thing always gets me in trouble with the Commander. That woman dislikes me, I believe."

"Uh huh." She had calmed down enough to step away from the safety of the wall.

Nagisa continued, clasping his hands together. "And to answer any questions you might have, I was born this way, as hard as it is to imagine. It is a defective vertebra in my neck that causes the pockets of bruising you see. The scar is more like a birthmark, I have been told." He spread his arms wide, palms up in a shrug.

"Now that you know my secret, I believe I will tell you another. This life is not..." He was thinking, smile gone.

"Easy. Easy! This life is not easy…" Smile back. "For any one of us here. The GeoFront hides the true ugliness of a humanity struggling under a yoke that may be too much for it to bear. But please, keep this in mind." Misato had no idea why he was still talking.

"Though the people here struggle with their burdens, there is no need for them to do it alone. That applies to you as well."

He shook his head, corrected himself.

"Especially to you. The Commander wants this to be a great shock for you, and I will not directly go against her wishes." He was speaking animatedly, getting closer to what he truly wanted to say (more honest) with every word. But she had the feeling that Nagisa was speaking an entirely different language than what she understood. She politely nodded, looked out the window. Waited for the rail car to arrive at the station still hundreds of meters below. Faster, faster.

"You are not alone. If you need anything, let me know. If you feel overwhelmed by anything, let me know. I am your new commanding officer, and I take a great interest in the well-being of my… underlings, shall we say?" His eyes were smiling at her and she wondered if this entire moment had been a joke.

"My commanding officer?" It was the one thing she could latch onto that didn't seem like a complete farce. Was she supposed to be taking this spew seriously?

"As you are now a part of NERV's piloting corps, you are under my command and my supervision." He seemed surprised that she seemed surprised by this news.

"I said I'd help you." She felt the sinking feeling in her stomach again. "I never said I'd join the pilot cor… Air Force? Are you some kinda recruiter?" This was a new gimmick.

He laughed, a pure sound echoing in the cramped rail car. "I am a recruiter, in a sense. I guide those who NERV needs to where they are supposed to be. You do not yet understand the significance, but I can tell you in no uncertain terms that you are one of the most important people in the world."

She began to ask why exactly she was so important, what exactly her father was working on, when exactly she would be allowed to leave, who exactly Nagisa was, when he interrupted her.

"We are arriving. The Commander will speak to you after we disembark. You will receive your answers. Do not worry." The way he was constantly smiling, expressing such concern for her reminded her uncomfortably of her uncle. If only because the two were nothing alike.

The car slowed to a stop and a uniformed guard saluted Nagisa as the doors opened. He returned it, then took Misato by the hand. It was so surprising, such an intimate gesture from someone who she could not understand at all, that she found herself going along with it.

She followed his path out of the rail car and took her first steps into a world as uncertain as the one she left behind.

* * *

"We should have brought her here sooner. Ritsuko isn't ready for this any more than she is."

"No. Giving her too much time to think would result in her leaving. Nagisa will ensure that she will pilot at least once. You and I will ensure that she understands the importance of continuing."

"You say she would leave. But, if we had prepared them earlier, given them something to work towards? We might be willing to s-sacrifice them, but they need to…"

The voice trailed off, apparently struggling to find words.

"They need to at least think they can trust us."

"Ritsuko trusts us only because of her circumstances and the incident with Unit 00. _She_ will never fully trust us because of her father and our association with him."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Fine. But, you _can_ call him Kaworu. He's told you enough times, that it shouldn't be some sort of…of issue between you two."

"I prefer Nagisa."

An exasperated sigh echoed through the depths of Central Dogma. Some things, it seemed, would never change.


	2. Chapter 2

2012

Kaworu Nagisa had a special gift. He understood people. People both in general and in specifics. He had commanded multiple sorties of holographic training without breaking stride. He had ensured nothing was left to chance in their efficient, breathtaking displays of violence with his agile mind and even quicker tongue. His gift was essential to humanity's survival, after all.

Kaworu Nagisa had a curse put upon him from birth. He had pinpointed how a person could be goaded into accepting a burden far too heavy, far too vile for their age. How the responsiblity could be laced around them, grasping and tightening until the only possible release was the end of the scenario, or their eventual death. He understood all this and felt his heart go out to the brownish-red haired waif who stood before him, sealed in a cobbled-together contact suit and preparing for the first activation of Unit 00.

He loved humanity. For all its horrors, for all it could do wrong, he found himself loving every person he met (perhaps in the biblical sense). It was how he could still sleep at night, knowing what he knew Ritsuko Akagi would find, would experience in the depths of the cyclopean giant.

"Are you prepared?" It was a rote question. She would never answer no, just like he would always ask. The girl's eyes hardened as she gathered scraps of courage and bobbed her head. It was the single most pathetic thing he had ever seen.

He nodded in return.

"Do not be afraid. You are the only one who can pilot it. We would not attempt this without knowing that you will be successful." His smile never faltered as she took the first tentative step into the open entry plug (her nervous, strained smile broke as soon as she turned away). Behind the blastproof glass of the command bunker, red and blue eyes gazed unblinkingly over the test chamber.

Lies were his trade. And trust was his unjust payment. He should hate himself, hate the pairs of eyes gorging themselves on images of a terrified child quite literally in over her head. But he had found one day that he loved humanity far too much to jeopardize everything for the sake of one miserable child. He left the test chamber, and did not look back.

* * *

2015

Had he stopped any more suddenly, Misato would have thought he had slammed into an invisible wall. It would fit the hall they were walking down, a dark atrium before the beast's lair. He spun, the door to the Commander's office framing his sleek form.

"I meant what I said, before. Please, allow me to assist you in anything you might need. We ask so _much_ of you children, and yet we cannot aid you when you need it most." She felt a headache begin, a dull throbbing which she felt represented her internal desire to make him shut up.

And yet he continued. "All we can do, I think, is provide something to return to, a safe haven between the storms. Please, make use of it." He was speaking past her, not at her. Something in the way his face was the same impassive mask as in the rail car screamed at her that he was trying desperately to communicate, struggling with his own foreknowledge (his own conscience) to impart something vitally important.

Misato nodded, wondered why he couldn't just tell her what was going on, and walked past him to the door. If he would not tell her, then maybe this Commander would. The door swung open as she reached for the handle. Parlor tricks.

She stalked into the vast room, flanked by Nagisa and his terrible conflict.

"Greetings, Misato Katsuragi, Third Child."

The dry words carried well across the empty room, belying the whispery tone they were spoken in. A loose suit sat behind an enormous slab of a desk, her head topped with a utilitarian mound of silvery (blueish?) hair. A mop of brown sat in front, his back to her and Nagisa. They appeared to be playing chess, a large number of captured pieces gracing the man's side of the table.

The game seemed to come to an end with the woman's words, pieces clumsily scattered as the man started. He turned, surprise still evident in his plain features, before his face was split by a smile.

"Kaworu! We thought you had gotten lost somewhere." He was grinning, as if this was the most amusing thing he had ever heard. "And you are Misato Katsuragi? It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Shinji Ikari, Subcommander of NERV." He was extended a hand covered in a white glove, terminating somewhere beneath his long sleeve.

Nagisa nudged her, smile returning. "What he means is: he is responsible for completing and organizing NERV's paperwork and hosting the quarterly UN review. Equally important tasks, I assure you." His voice was gentle, playful, and it relieved her to see Nagisa leave his baggage outside.

"It's an honor to meet you…" His grip was loose but firm. "Sir?" She wasn't sure how to address him, and flailed about wildly. To her confusion (and secret delight) his face flushed beet red, like he somehow was unused to hearing his subordinates address him.

"Oh, y-you don't really have to call me sir, or… or anything like that. Ikari is fine." He faced the woman (Commander?) briefly, as if to confirm something. "You're a Child, after all."

A child? Or a Child? The now silent woman who had called her the Third Child (she imagined it a Proper Noun) stood from behind her desk, the overhead light bringing her features out of the shadows and casting them in sharp relief.

She would have been a lovely woman. Misato took a step back, the same revulsion mixed with a deep pity that she had experienced with Nagisa's neck rushing back to her. What looked like a spider-web of raised, ropy veins spattered the Commander's cheeks and chin, running over her neck and (she assumed) down under her clothes. She looked like an imperfect wax figure, her almost translucent skin contrasting repellently with the opaque growths spread across it.

"I am Rei Ayanami. I lead the organization called NERV." The appearance of a mannequin was broken when her face softened, and she, as well, smiled at the girl now the center of attention.

"The reason you are here cannot be explained easily. So we will start from the beginning."

* * *

2015

Ignorance truly had been bliss. What she had once understood as a micrometeoroid impacting the South Pole at relativistic speeds had been revealed to be the catastrophic results of the first contact humanity had shared with an alien species. Aliens. Of course.

Ignoring the fact that she had just thrown in aliens at the very beginning of her little story (it did not bode well for the rest of it), Commander Ayanami continued, speaking of multiple seeds that had been scattered from the fallout of Second Impact. These were code-named 'Angels', the first of which would be arriving shortly to directly attack Tokyo-3 and the GeoFront. And Misato was expected to fight it off.

"Your father's work was vital to our military effort." Ayanami spoke in a dry, clipped tone, eschewing warmth for speed and clarity. "He was deeply connected to Project E. Unit 01 was his brainchild. While the prototype Unit 00 was the work of Dr. Naoko Akagi, he was the one who was able to progress beyond mere copies, and deliver a stable test type. By default, the project was his from then on."

Misato was surprised to learn that the strongest emotion she was feeling was guilt. Guilt and shame and anger that she had to learn this from someone else after he died. He had sent for her before he died (doing what?) and she had refused, just as she always had. But he had not gone any further than that, content to wait until a next time that he could not have known would never come for him.

"Unit 01, while being the test type, is a significant portion of our interception capability. What we need from you is to pilot it in a week's time to destroy the attacking Angel. You will be assisting Ritsuko Akagi, the pilot of Unit 00. She has been trained in hand-to-hand combat and firearms operation in her unit since a young age. But any operation carries an element of risk; we would prefer she had someone serving as back-up in case of an unforeseen complication."

Like either of them being killed. Or maimed. Or otherwise 'complicated' by a monster alien thing. The harsh fact remained unsaid, settling around what little atmosphere was left with its smothering weight.

"What is a Unit? How can you expect me to be able to pilot it?" She jerked a thumb towards Nagisa. "He said that it needed my genes, or something? Because it was keyed to _him_ , and I'm his daughter? Am I really the only one who can do this?"

The barrage of questions didn't seem to faze the Commander. She looked thoughtfully at Nagisa, then returned her focus to Misato, pinning her in place with the force of her stare. "The proper term for Units 00 through 02 is a Synthetic Humanoid Evangelion. They are biomechanical fighting machines made in the image of humanity. Their scale is roughly 12 times that of an average human. You will be able to pilot because of the mental connection inherent in communication with the Evangelion. If you can operate your own body, you will be able to operate an Eva." Ikari smirked at that, like the idea of a child not knowing about giant psychic robots was a funny one.

"Beyond that, Nagisa was correct in telling you that you are the only viable pilot. Unless you have siblings we do not know about, you are our only candidate." With the last statement, the cavernous office fell into silence.

Candidate. Like she had applied for this. Like she had wanted this. The silence deepened until Misato feared she would drown, and broke it, fears and doubts spilling out without her conscious permission.

"Um," She said. Um. Um. "This just seems so… crazy? I don't know how I can really help you at all." She was staring at the floor, noticing for the first time the deep patterns etched into the black surface. "I mean, I'm good at volleyball, or, uh, pretty good. I'm not, like, clumsy, really either, so…" She was babbling, and almost glad when Ikari spoke, interrupting her.

"Are you willing to try? I know that what we're asking seems impossible." What a guy, admitting a teenager might not be the best choice. "But the bottom line is that we need an answer. If you agree, we will focus on preparing you for basic movement and combat drills with Ritsuko. If you don't, we will be forced to sortie her on her own."

She risked a glance up, and found him regarding her with a mixture of deeply engrained pity and sternness. The implication was clear. They _had_ been telling her that she was the only option. If she refused, some girl (she hadn't seen her once in her life) would be sent out on her own. The way they'd been saying it, though. Just try. Are you willing to try?

And, trying her best to push her fear where she pushed everything else she didn't want to deal with, she found that she was.

"I'll try my best."

Ikari's façade melted into a smile, and Nagisa clasped her shoulder. Thank you. They were people she had just met, people who were trying to make her fight an alien in a giant robot (?), but they seemed genuine. Seemed like they needed her.

The Commander turned away, moving back to her high-backed chair. "Excellent. As of now, we have established temporary quarters for you in an apartment next to Major Nagisa. Your weekly schedule will be delivered as you arrive."

She must have been completely transparent to these people. Everything was already in place, like they had known she was going to accept. But she couldn't find it in her to be angry. She cast Nagisa an uncertain glance, before asking a question she was sure she'd regret.

"Um. If Nag- Major Nagisa has an empty room, would it be okay if I bunked there, instead? I'm used…" Uncle and Nagisa. Images overlaid with emotion she was sure was projecting, from someone she suddenly, painfully missed to someone who in his own way had been looking out for her.

"I'm used to having someone to look after." There was a peal of laughter as Ikari turned away. Nagisa was smiling beatifically, looking like she had just given him the compliment of his life. She supposed that in a way, she had.

"Going after even a Pilot." Ikari could not keep a straight face, still chuckling. "Is there anyone on base safe from your charms?"

"I suppose that even I cannot resist the fame and fortune of a Child's lifestyle. I believe the term is trophy husband?" The grin mirrored on both men's faces reassured her. "But as it so happens, I do have two spare rooms. If the Commander agrees…?" He trailed off.

Ayanami nodded decisively. "Very well." Red eyes lanced into hers.

"Take your training seriously. It is the only assistance we can give in a combat situation." The Commander must subscribe to the one deadly strike school of killing conversation.

"And…" for the first time, the woman seemed something other than completely assured. "I," she shook her head. " _We_ would ask that you take care of Ritsuko. She might appear unfriendly, but that is only because of the burden that has been placed on her shoulders. She is utterly driven, and completely loyal to those she considers friends. Please, make sure that you become one. It would help her immensely to have someone her own age to talk to about NERV business."

She felt something squeezing at her chest, and realized that this even this melted wax-woman would have someone important to her. Misato couldn't help the genuine smile that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. The first since she had been taken here.

"I'll make sure of it." Ayanami sank back in her chair slightly, not wanting to appear too relieved.

"Good. Good. If that is all?" She directed the question over Misato's head at Nagisa (Kaworu, she supposed, now that they would be living together).

"Yes. We will take our leave." He stepped beside her and took her gently by the arm.

Ikari and Ayanami watched as the pair fled out from the heart of darkness and to the new life awaiting them.

"I'm surprised you agreed." Ikari took to his chair once again, picking up the wildly scattered chess pieces on his way back.

"Nagisa takes Ritsuko's failed activation test as his own personal failing." Ikari grimaced, the mere mention still provoking a whirlwind of memories. "He cared too little, and now I believe he will care too much. However, it is useful to ensure Katsuragi's loyalty, so there is no reason to refuse." She steepled her hands and observed Shinji setting the pieces back in their rightful positions.

"I just didn't think you'd trust him, honestly." He blushed when he realized what he had said. "Not- It's not a bad thing, though. I'm glad you're giving him a chance. He might not want anything to do with our real goals, but he understands the importance of stopping the angels very well."

"Yes. When the time comes, I believe he will understand why all of this is necessary." She and the Subcommander sat in the silence until the echoing clink of the pieces ended.

"Well." Ikari stood abruptly, hands reaching into his pocket for a PDA. "I've got my responsibilities to attend to. Paperwork." He rolled his eyes and snorted. "I should be finished, uh, hopefully, before Ristuko gets back. Were you wanting anything special for dinner?"

"Anything would be acceptable." He left, a trail of pleasantries in his wake.

Still submerged in the pleasant darkness of the yawning maw, the mannequin smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

2015

Misato Katsuragi was not expecting Kaworu's apartment to actually be in Tokyo-3. It was common sense, she thought, to try to avoid living in a future alien-giant cyborg battleground. When she voiced that thought aloud, he merely chuckled.

"It is important, I think, to interact with the city itself. With the people who have made their homes here. They are who you will be fighting for, after all." She wasn't sure she agreed. It seemed to her like she was fighting for him. For her uncle who she would need to remember to call tomorrow. For the simple fact that she had not seen her father before he died.

"Here we are."

It was a nice building, clean and functional. "We will be on the second floor. Would you like me to take your suitcase?" She refused, dragging her bags up the stairs. Really getting a feel for her new home. Because that, she had realized, was what it was. She wasn't an idiot. NERV would need her again, would give her another impossible (incredibly simple) choice. Stay or go. Fight or run. And she knew what she would pick every time.

It wasn't even a choice. Surreally, she resented herself for that; for the fact that she would go so far to help people she didn't even know. But, they needed her (She could never run when she was needed).

The door opened with a hydraulic hiss and a soft light flickered on overhead. She was incredibly unsurprised to see that Kaworu's apartment was spotless, off-white walls uncovered by any sort of decoration (does anyone actually live here?). A small kotatsu hogged the center of the living room, with a couch and TV banished to the corner. Misato angled for the couch as Kaworu stepped in behind her, door closing.

"Allow me to formally welcome you to m-our home. I hope you will find your stay to be a pleasant one." He covered the minor slip with another smile. "I will be making dinner within the hour. If you would like to assist?" Oh. Did he think…?

She plopped down, luxuriating in the soft cushions. "Sure. Thank you for agreeing to all this. Um." It always seemed to come out whenever she tried not to say it. Um. He was looking at her quizzically, waiting for her to continue her train of thought. "I didn't mean what I said back in the Commander's office." Still confused. She was tired, and beginning to get embarrassed. "A-about having someone to take care of. I was just joking, so sorry if…"

He shook his head, interrupting her. "We understood what you were trying to say. It is much easier to adjust to a new environment if you have another face around. Not that I am particularly familiar." Relief. If he wasn't mad, then she was just overthinking things. "You will want to see your room before retiring on my couch. I cannot promise it will feel as comfortable in the morning." A good point. Hauling herself back upright, she followed the grey-haired man into the closest room.

A small bed was tucked in the corner of an otherwise desolate room. She had a good idea of his sense of interior decoration by now (as sterile as possible). Her suitcase went on the side of the bed. If nothing else, it could serve as a makeshift desk before she could get her hands on some furniture. Her two duffels were dropped unceremoniously on the bed itself. A little less spotless; her job was done. Cleaning her hands of imaginary dust, she turned back to Kaworu.

"All right. What are we makin'?"

Dinner turned out to be an exciting affair. Quickly learning that enthusiasm did not necessarily equal cooking skill, Kaworu had entrusted her with the grave task of pitching their first attempt into the wastebin, while he called for takeout. She saved a little just out of spite. Crispy blackened rice was an acquired taste, after all.

Conversation restarted as soon as the delivery man left. "I was wanting to ask. Why did Commander Ayanami tell me to be all chummy with the other pilot? I haven't even met her yet. Not-not that I think I'll dislike her or anything, I was just, uh, wondering. Are they like related, or…?" She hoped he would cut her some slack; this drivel wasn't exactly her a-game.

Kaworu finished chewing, swallowed, and then took a sip of his water. Was it really that tough a question? Was she getting so tired that she was incoherent?

"Ritsuko Akagi's mother died seven years ago. After the accident, she was taken in by the Commander and Subcommander. They began her training almost immediately, informing her about the Angels and her Evangelion Unit. At age eight." Something dangerous was settling over his expression. "She did not connect with either of them particularly well, and I must admit I felt vindicated. But, something changed." Once again, he was reliving something only he could see.

"Her first activation test, three years ago, was an unmitigated disaster. Unit 00 has always been unstable, but never to the degree we saw that day. After completely destroying the test chamber, she had to be forcibly retrieved from the entry plug." He was smiling now, completely unlike his normal expression. Hard and bitter.

"You have to understand that the Commander, despite how…" He struggled to find a diplomatic way of saying it. "How unpersonable she is, was genuinely trying to look out for Ritsuko's well-being. Ayanami was the first one by her side while she recovered from the incident. And that, apparently, was all it took for Ritsuko to begin to depend on them. She now lives happily with her adopted parents." Kaworu's tone didn't make it clear if that was supposed to be good news or a tragedy.

After a pause, he shook his head, running his hand through his silver hair. "But I agree with her suggestion. Akagi is a very trustworthy person to be fighting alongside. A strong relationship between our pilots can never be a bad thing, after all." And with that, he was back to normal. She let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

And the meal drifted back into a workable silence.

It was only after retiring to her room that her thoughts began twisting and turning, dimly realizing that no one had told her what had happened to her father. She considered leaving her bed, following the notes of the orchestra that must be coming from Kaworu's room, demanding an explanation. Her sheets shifted as she rolled, her back to the door. She found she just couldn't summon the outrage, and, banishing all thoughts of her father, of Evangelion, and of the horrible scar she knew lurked behind Kaworu's collar, she fell into sleep.

It could wait until tomorrow.

* * *

2015

The bowels of NERV HQ were just as impressive this time. Sterile, brightly lit halls eventually gave way to claustrophobic metal tunnels as she and Kaworu trekked to her Unit. It was exciting, in a way. They had only scratched the surface of this new building on the way to the Commander's office, and now she was seeing an entirely different side. The functional, essential underbelly.

A backpack was slung over her shoulder, with what Kaworu assured her was an essential piece of her uniform. It was a skintight wetsuit, yellow with black and purple highlights, with a life-support backpack and self-contained AED system. He had called it a contact suit, plugsuit for short, and explained that it was yet another way NERV had her safety as its top priority. She was getting better about knowing when he was joking (she hoped).

The changing room was small, cramped, with a line of lockers next to two stretched benches. Misato turned her passive-aggression on full force as she placed her bag on the nearest bench, plopping down with her legs crossed. She was in it for the long haul now. Kaworu had followed her in, waiting with his back turned, before apparently realizing she wasn't feeling that familial just yet.

"I will wait outside while you prepare." What a guy.

The suit, as expected, fit her like a second skin. It was pleasantly warm, however. Heating filaments, Kaworu's voice reminded her. Confirming she was indeed all alone, she took a look at herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. Purple-black hair was stretched back into a ponytail, terminating abruptly at her shoulders. She had prominent eyes, brown as brown could be (any other color would have been better) framed by high cheekbones and her messy bangs. What figure she had was emphasized by the tight-fitting suit. And what confidence she had dropped out entirely. She looked ridiculous.

Since she had arrived at NERV, she had been keeping an eye out for hidden cameras, or a sniggering audience. Like this whole thing was an elaborate prank, designed by her father to get her into yet another miserable situation.

Aliens. Giant bio-mechanical cyborgs. Really weird scars and whatever was all over Ayanami's face. It was simply too much to believe on blind faith alone. She had gone with the NERV grunts in the first place because of her father, had agreed to take over his work because of him, and no one had said anything more. She hadn't asked, of course (it's the principle of the thing), but it was still suspicious. Here she was, dancing to whatever beat they set based on what?

Hope. They wanted her to try, so she would.

Besides, the 'prank' had gone on far too long. And she could at least hope that her father had not been dedicated enough to die for a joke. That bizarre thought gave her the push she needed. She could wonder later.

It was time to activate Unit 01.

She found it lurking in a chamber three stories tall. A head, angular and shaped vaguely like a bestial samurai helmet, was crowned with a single horn. Purple and green armor protected what Kaworu had explained to be the biological components of the gigantic cyborg. It had to be at least sixty, seventy feet tall, dwarfing everything else in the massive chamber with its presence. Half-submerged in a tank of orange liquid, it was nonetheless the most intimidating sight she had ever witnessed. And she was to be piloting it.

The plug part of the plugsuit had turned out to refer to a cylindrical entry plug, inserted at the base of the Unit's neck. Kaworu guided her to the hatch, assisting her in entering and sitting in the command station. He stepped back to the edge of the plug and gave her his last piece of advice. "The Evangelion has a rudimentary brain of its own. It is not a mindless golem for you to command. The synchronization of the pilot and the Unit is a partnership that is essential to efficiently controlling it." He clasped her hands.

"When we talk of synchronization, it means that your desires will be supported by the Eva's own will. It is a far more personal thing than you could ever imagine. You will no doubt struggle in this first activation." She tried to focus more on his smile than on his words. You'll be fine. "But, as they say, the first time is always the hardest."

He had assured her repeatedly over breakfast that there were 'numerous safety precautions' that should prevent a repeat of whatever had happened to Akagi during her first attempt. It was more terrifying than reassuring. But she had come this far (It would be ridiculous to turn back now). Tuning back in to the pleasant buzz of Kaworu's voice, she found him wrapping up.

"You are in no real danger. The Commander and Subcommander are guiding the activation test from the observation deck. Good luck." And with that, he turned and paced to the edge of the chamber. The hatch slammed shut and she was alone.

As if on cue, the same orange goo as in the test chamber began filling up the now sealed entry plug. It was apparently breathable, designed to oxygenate the entire interior of the plug, while also serving as a shock cushion. Misato took a deep breath out of habit as the liquid rose to her neck (No reason to take chances). The onboard radio, slightly muffled and garbled by the liquid filling the plug, crackled to life.

"We are beginning initial nerve contact." The Commander was easily identified by her calm tones. Background chatter was audible through the radio, oddly soothing jargon about harmonics and positive connections. Almost without realizing it, she had been clenching and releasing the control handles (spacing out). Wait. Something was happening.

"…connection in the green, awaiting...psychograph stable with minor irregu…"

The voices were fading in and out, layering over one another until all she could hear was a dim hum. Her hands tingled, nervous shocks that startled her enough to look down at them. Misato experienced intense vertigo as she found herself fifty feet off the ground, staring at armored fingers hovering before her. Ah.

Synchronization. She closed her eyes, hoping to clear her head (she was sure there was something itching in her neck, burning a hole down to her spine. There was a muted pressure on the inside of her forehead). Someone was trying to speak to her, but the words swept past her, carried away by the waves of pain in her mind (stop. I just need a minute to get used to this).

Opened her eyes yet again. She was seeing what the Unit was seeing (but she was still aware of hers own self? Both at the same time was too much for her). There was a throbbing in her head, pulsing with sudden flashes of words (ideas. Will you try? The Scar stretched across his neck like a disgusting choker. The woman who expected her to fight; her skin stitched with raised, ropy lines. Try). She felt like her memories were leaking out of her eyes. Blinking rapidly, trying to keep them in.

She suddenly became aware that she wasn't alone. Hadn't been since it had all started. There was something inside her (I'm in the Unit). Her? head snapped to the observation deck, where she knew two figures were waiting behind the glass. They beckoned her; something deep inside her hand desired to hold them in a crushing grip. Only fair (she was gone).

She wasn't thinking. Wasn't feeling anything. Only knew that she had to squeeze and splatter them until they couldn't hurt her anymore. She had to be protected, it was vitally important, the most important objective to her. The drum-beat of half-remembered ideas (responsibility failure duty only you just try. Other Responsibilities) echoed inside her head. It was an easy reach for her gargantuan stature. They were not moving, not reacting at all to their imminent deaths. She reached

But her hand would not move. And she realized what she was trying to do.

"…and we have A-10 synchronization. Have you fully adjusted, Misato?" Kaworu's words sliced through the haze around her mind, and she gave a breathless affirmative. Then she sank back in the control chair, placing her hand (her own, now. The Unit would not move an inch. She would make sure of it) over her forehead.

The restraints had held, probably saved the observation bunker. Kaworu had told her they had been installed after Akagi's test, and now she knew why. Because the Evangelion had a mind of its own, he had said. And because something in this Unit wanted to see the Commander and Subcommander dead.

* * *

2015

Kaworu had arrived at the observation deck shortly after the Unit had begun to stare. He stood with Ikari and Ayanami as they commanded the initial examinations and test procedures. Misato had been subdued throughout, obeying orders with an enthusiasm more commonly seen in corpses. It was obvious why. The initial connection had almost gone wrong; another Akagi. But, he was proud of her. She had controlled the beast within (though the restraints had helped as well), his own minor contribution the final step back to reality.

Yes, he was proud. And generous enough to not mind that the lunch she packed for him (he truly was a fool) contained the remains of the carbonized rice he had insisted she throw out. But not generous enough to overlook her performance in the simulations. Her basic movement drills were slow, unsteady. Her aim in the induction mode simulation was awful. Her basic memorization of the city's launch elevators and weapon silos was abysmal.

Her synchronization ratio was spectacular. Baseline thirty-five percent during the activation. She was second to Akagi (obviously), but thirty-five for a first time was indeed impressive.

Two conflicting reports wrote themselves in his head. She would need more than a week to be truly combat-ready, but she would acceptable as a backup. It felt as though a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders (he would not have to cut her unconscious body out of the plug. He would not have to send Akagi out alone). He ate his charred meal, felt himself begin to choke up. Perhaps it was because, in the end, Misato had done so well. Her story was just beginning.

Or perhaps it was because he was eating actual burnt garbage. Swallowing the last of it, he coughed, laughed. He was always weak to acts of genuine affection.


End file.
